


Of Fish and Mermaids and Bridges

by DarkMoonChild



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Explicit Language, F/M, If you’re expecting anything PG you’re in the wrong fandom, Loss of Virginity, Minor Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonChild/pseuds/DarkMoonChild
Summary: Lord Frey decides to err on the side of caution when securing his hold over the Riverlands and demands that the Blackfish marries one of his daughters as well his nephew, Edmure Tully. Wyllene Frey, however, is not what anyone expected. Born a Frey but raised at the Mermaid Court by her uncle Lord Manderly, her loyalties lie with the North. When she overhears her family’s wedding betrayal plot she’ll do all she can to save her king, her cousin, and her new husband.Note: Updates are not guaranteed and will likely be sporadic. You have been warned.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a mix of the show, the books, and internet research. Some ages might be slightly changed, both to mesh the books and show and to better accommodate my OCs.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned Game of Thrones why the hell would I be writing fanfiction.

The Lord’s solar in the Water Tower of the Twins was as dark and depressing as the rest of the keep. A fire burned in the hearth trying to keep the cool autumn air out. Lord Frey surveyed his sons, grandsons and great-grandsons before him, some large and strapping, others gangly and weak, and all ugly. The Frey name would need to be elevated if he was ever going to get rid of all his damn children. Good marriages for some would mean better prospects for the rest, and maybe then he could walk down his own halls without tripping over all the damn brats.

He looked over to his son Lothar, the ugly bugger, and planned his next move. “Frey blood will gain control of the Riverlands one way or another. That shit Edmure will finally have to agree to marry one of my daughters. But the boy is weak and a fool. It is probable that he will not last till the end of this war. But who is set to inherit from him if he doesn’t manage to breed my daughter before his dies? After all, Hoster Tully had to breed his damn Whent bitch for years before he managed to sire a living son, Edmure probably inherited that damn Whent weakness. Who is his heir now, the Stark bitch?”

Lame Lothar Frey was as ugly as the rest of his kin. He was soft in all the wrong places with close-set eyes, a pointed beard that hid his Frey weak chin and dark hair that curled down to his shoulders. However, his most defining feature was his lame leg that he had been born with that twisted oddly. Lothar looked at his father as he contemplated the question, after all when Lords of a great house married daughters of another, inheritance often got complicated. “Catelyn Stark is the Queen Mother, my lord, and it is unlikely she would marry and produce a Tully heir.”

Walder smirked at the thought of breeding the redheaded Lady Stark but quickly dismissed the thought, much too old for his tastes and he would have to get rid of his currently wife, too much effort. “Ah, yes, the fucking Queen Mother. And her eldest yelp is the fucking King of the North. And I heard the Ironborn killed off the other Stark boys, which leaves the eldest girl.”

“Yes my lord, but she has just married the Imp, according to the most recent news from the capital. If the Stark boy had any sense, he would disinherit the girl to prevent the Lannisters from gaining the North through her. And her younger sister is believed to be dead,” Lothar responded.

“And even if she’s not, she’s already betrothed to one of my boys and is likely to be the new heir to the Northern throne anyway, which leaves the Blackfish. After all that mad Tully Whore in the Vale rules for her weak whelp. Another example of the Whent weakness that now plagues the Tully seed.”

“So Wyllene will wed the Tully Lord, Waldron to the youngest Stark bitch if she is alive, and Roslin to the Blackfish and one way or another my grandson will be Lord of the Riverlands.”

“I would have expected you to have Roslin become Lord Tully’s wife, my lord. Isn’t she the favorite of your daughters?” Lothar questioned.

“She’s certainly the prettiest of them. But Edmure Tully has been given the chance to take his pick from among the girls and he’s turned me down every time. The arrogant cunt. No, he will not be given a choice this time. Let him pant after his uncle’s bride. Lothar, take Black Walder and treat with the Starks. Our terms are marriages between two of my girls and Edmure Tully and Blackfish, don’t tell them which girls, I might just change my mind before they get here. Considering the Wolf is desperate for troops after he made the Karstark a head shorter, they will accept it.”

“Yes father.” Lothar bowed and turned to limp out of the solar when he father spoke again.

“The wedding will take place here. After all a father should see his daughters married and it’s much too far for me to bother going to Riverrun. And make sure they understand that the wolf is expected to attend, we wouldn’t want to risk any accidental insults on their part now would we?” Lord Frey demanded and as an afterthought added “And somebody send for Wyllene, she probably should be here for her own wedding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest Author’s Note I will ever give you, but inheritance laws and customs can often be tricky and are not usually uniformed.
> 
> Martin has stated that “Holdings are seldom divided. Nor are they combined, as a rule, although one person could conceivably hold more than one title”.
> 
> So I have taken this to mean that while someone like Wyman Manderly has the title of Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand, his actual holdings is White Harbor with the seat of New Castle with whatever surrounding lands come with that.
> 
> While it might be more acceptable for minor houses to combine, since they have much less power and influence than the major houses, it is very unlikely that the crown would allow two or more of the major houses to combine into one, as this would give the new combined major house too much power and land. Kings also do not hold the title of lord to one of the major kingdoms. When Robert became King his brother Renly became Lord of Storm’s End. Though this did skip Stannis in line, however Stannis became Lord of Dragonstone which is the traditional Targaryen seat for the next in line to the throne, which could explain why Robert declared Renly Lord of Storm’s End besides liking him better than Stannis.
> 
> The reason why Robb Stark is King of the North, King of the Trident, and Lord of Winterfell is that Winterfell became the seat/capitol of his kingship of the North and the Trident.
> 
> Therefore if we accept those qualifications the order for inheritance of the Riverlands would be:
> 
> Edmure Tully Lord of Riverrun  
> Catelyn Stark (unlikely, she is Queen Mother, and Lady Stark)  
> Robb Stark (skipped since he is King)  
> Bran Stark (believed dead, questionable if he could produce and heir, also heir to Kingdom of the North)  
> Rickon Stark (believed dead)  
> Sansa Stark/Lannister (prisoner of Lannisters, disinherited by her brother)  
> Arya Stark (believed dead or in Lannister possession, also betrothed to a Frey, would be considered Robb Stark’s heir if they believe she is alive)  
> Lysa Arryn (crazy and ruling the Vale for her son)  
> Robert Arryn (skipped since he is Lord of the Vale)  
> Brynden Tully
> 
> On the Frey side of things:
> 
> I have also changed one of Walder Frey’s wives. Instead of marrying Sarya Whent (who gave him no children) he instead marries another woman and has one daughter by her.
> 
> For those of you who don’t really know Walder Frey’s wives they are: (1) Perra Royce, (2) Cyrenna Swann, (3) Amarei Crakenhall, (4) Alyssa Blackwood, (5) Sarya Whent, (6) Bethany Bosby (Roslin Frey’s mother), (7) Annara Farring, (8) Joyeuse Erenford (wife during Game of Thrones).


	2. Arrangments

**Wyllene**

“I would sooner marry the Blackfish!”

The words slipped out of Wyllene’s mouth before she could stop it. She stared at her father, a man she only had vague childhood memories of, in a mix of indignation and horror.

“Then you’ll marry the Blackfish.” Walder Frey drawled as he looked down on his obstinate daughter. “You’re sister can marry the Lord of the Riverlands and you can secure his heir in case he doesn’t stick a whelp in her. After all there is a war on, who knows if he’ll get himself killed before he gives the Frey’s his heir.”

Wyllene Frey looked up at her father sitting in the massive black oak chair of the Lords of the Crossing, unbelievingly. “But,” she stuttered, “he’s old enough to be, to be…”

“What,” Lord Frey snickered, “your father?”

Wyllene looked down at her feet knowing her father didn’t care about age differences or the happiness of his children for that matter. Sneaking a look up, Wyllene caught sight of her father’s newest bride, a ninetieth birthday present from her father’s retainers the Erenfords. The poor girl was only fifteen, younger than almost all of her goodchildren. And Wyllene distinctly remembered hearing about her father marrying one of her Walda nieces (though the gods only knew which Walda) to Roose Bolton and everyone knew that man was anything but nice. His house sigil was a flayed man for the gods sakes, and everyone knew about his love for the banned First Night traditions. And they call the Freys dishonorable and cruel. Thank the gods she at least wasn’t born a Bolton.

“You will do as you’re told girl. Lothar and Walder, are on their way to Riverrun to give our demands. Roslin can marry the damn Tully boy and you will marry the Blackfish. Now get out.”

Wyllene turned and quickly left the dark hall before she lost her temper and tried to argue with her father over the arrangement. Dodging around her siblings and nieces and nephews that littered the halls she quickly walked through the tower and out onto the bridge. Without pausing she continue her fast pace to the East Keep, quickly walking though the courtyard and the barbican and followed the bridge over the moat until she reached solid ground. She walked past the guards without issue, her own two personal guards, a gift from her uncle, trailing her at a distance. The Frey men didn’t even give her a second glance as she fled the keep; after all there were too many Frey women to give any of them any notice. Being only one of many among her siblings gave her more freedom than most titled ladies and for once Wyllene thanked the gods for her many siblings if only for giving her as sense of anonymousness.

Huffing, Wyllene marched down the east banks, breathing deeply to try and calm herself. The wet air and smell of fish help to ground her. It smelled like home, and for a brief moment she felt a pang of longing for her mother’s family, the only family that actually knew her as a person and not one of Walder Frey’s countless children.

Somewhat calmer after her initial outburst, Wyllene sat down in the wet grass ignoring the muddiness that was surely soiling her dress. She stared into the water of the Trident as she began to think over her conversation with her father. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to even utter the Blackfish’s name. She didn’t want to marry the current Tully Lord of Riverrun. She knew it would be an excellent match, that she would have been Lady of the Riverlands and her child its heir but she couldn’t imagine being married to such a man.

Yes he was considered a decent lord and cared for his people. But she had also heard of his comments when her father had first tried to arrange a match between one of his daughters and Edmure Tully. It had been whispered that he had proclaimed that he would sooner marry his horse than one of Walder Frey’s gets, and his horse would be the prettier of the two in any case.

Wyllene knew that most looked down on House Frey. They were too new to the gentry. Gaining their wealth and affluence through the bridge toll they demanded of any who wished to cross. It also didn’t help that her father sired more children than he could even remember the names of and that he was a truly unpleasant man. However, despite her family’s somewhat deserved reputation, Wyllene could never see herself marrying a man that would look down on her for her name and ridicule her family. Besides, while the Lord Tully might be considered a good lord during peace times, these were times of war, and he had already proven that he was mediocre at best at being a wartime lord. After all, he had spectacularly failed defending his lands against the Lannister’s and had to be rescued by his nephew and uncle. A gently bred woman needed a man who could protect her and lead his people to victory not ruin. Besides, everyone knows what happens to a wife of a defeated lord, the Martel princess being a shining example.

She should not have lost her temper with her father. It would only make him dislike her. It was hard enough for any child of Walder Frey to gain their father’s approval or a kind word from the prickly man, especially the females. Beside, Wyllene comforted herself, the Blackfish would refuse to marry her. Everyone knew about his rejection of the Redwyn girl and his animosity with his late brother over the fact that he would not marry. He will refuse and her father will have to accept that only one of his daughters would marry a Tully.

Taking another deep breath Wyllene lay back unmindful of the damp seeping into her dress or her to guards standing a short distance off. She tried to push the issue to the back of her mind.

It would only be a month or two for her half-brothers to reach Riverrun and for the Stark and Tully troops to get to the Twins. Only two months of enduring the overcrowded Twins and the japes from her family that was likely to come with the Blackfish’s rejection. Two months and then she could go home.


	3. Treating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the dialog from this chapter comes from the Game of Thrones episode The Climb (S3E6) and from A Storm of Swords, Chapter 35.

**Lothar**

The day had been long. After traveling from the Twins to Riverrun, Lothar was ready for a bit of a rest. But it was not to be. The old fish had finally die, _it took him long enough_ , and the wolf king had given him the _honor_ of being one of the seven to carry the damnable heavy boat and push it into the river. Lothar still couldn’t decide if they were trying to shame him by making the cripple struggle with the boat or not. Probably.

At least he could enjoy his father’s decision to send Black Walder with him. The king and his party all saw it as the insult his father probably intended it to be, but it was the stuck up cunt of a Queen Mother that amused him the most. Her dislike of bastards was well known and no matter how hard she tried to mask it, her outrage and offence at sharing space with Black Walder was obvious. The bastard’s bluntness would also be amusing during the restitution talks, a good balance for Lothar’s own honeyed words. Besides, the North and its cause needed the Freys, he and Walder could afford to give some offense.

Dinner had finally ended and the Westerlings had flitted away. Their presence throughout the entire meal only reminded the Freys of the King’s betrayal. Instead of a Frey queen and Frey influence at the Northern court they had to bow down to these cunts from the Westerlands. What kind of idiot set aside a betrothal and alliance to bed and wed an unimportant bitch whose family was sworn to their enemy. This war was lost already if this was an example of the kind of decisions the boy king was making. He might be a decent military commander but he was shit at being an actual king, did the high and mighty Tully bitch teach her children nothing about politics? And so much for the infamous Stark honor.

The room seemed dark and claustrophobic despite its large size. Everyone sat around the long solid table within the large hall. Lothar Frey and Black Walder surveyed the group in front of them. Catelyn Stark sat at the end, quiet and stoney, looking almost angry to be there. Her son the King of the North, sat next to her, silent but with an air of arrogance, looking down on the two Frey’s before him. Lord Edmure Tully fidgeted next to his nephew, his posture and face showing his churlish attitude, his hands on the table and often straying to the cup in front of him. The Blackfish completed the group. His strong stare daring any to cross him.

After a moment Robb Stark broke the silence. “Thank you for riding here so quickly. I know travel isn’t easy in these times.” Despite his words of hospitality, his arrogant look wasn’t diminished.

Black Walder, the more confrontational of the two, decided to respond. “The roads are crawling with cutthroats and bandits” he began and then adds with a mocking tone “When the King of the North summons us, we come.”

While amusing to watch Black Walder try to subtly insult their hosts, Lothar wanted to get this audience over. However, it wouldn’t hurt to bring them down a notch and throw them off balance, and Lothar knew the perfect bit of news that would do just that. “Before we turn to the business that brings us here, there is another matter,” Lothar said with as much solemnity in his voice he could muster. “A grave matter, I fear. I had hoped it would not fall to me to bring you these tidings, but it seems I must. My lord father has had a letter from his grandsons.”

Lady Stark finally looked towards the Frey man at this, having been staring off towards the wall for some time. Probably trying to ignore the fact that a bastard and cripple were sharing a meal with her. The woman had probably forgotten about the children she had agreed to foster. Had forgotten that they were under her protection and that they too could have been lost when Winterfell was attacked. Another stupid move on the young king’s part, trusting that squid.

After a brief pause, Lady Catelyn asked in a hesitant voice, “The grandsons at Winterfell?” she paused for a moment as if she just remembered what the boys were meant to be in relation to herself. “My wards?”

The idiot woman couldn’t even remember the names of the children she had agreed to foster, to put under her protection and rear. They weren’t even hard names to remember, as they both shared the same name as many of their brethren. _Family, Duty, Honor_ indeed. Those boys were meant to be a part of her family now. She was meant to be their Lady and their mother as they learned to be men. She had a sworn duty to them. But what did these traitorous shits care about family words. “Walder and Walder, yes,” Lothar said, trying to remind her of her failure as a ward to the two boys. “But they are presently at the Dreadfort, my lady. I grieve to tell you this, but there has been a battle. Winterfell is burned.”

“Burned?” Robb Stark chocked out, his voice horrified and unbelieving. Lothar had to forcibly suppress a smirk at the boy’s shocked and pained face.

Lothar clarified, “Your northern lords tried to retake it from the ironmen. When Theon Greyjoy saw that his prize was lost, he put the castle to the torch.” Of course Greyjoy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to overtake the seat of the North if the wolf boy hadn’t sent his hostage back his squid father, nor would he have been able to succeed had Winterfell been defended by more than a crippled child, and infant and a handful of castle guards. Lothar still couldn’t understand how the Stark boy had done so well in battle but failed so spectacularly in everything else.

“We have heard naught of any battle,” the Blackfish said, clearly hoping the Frey men simply had false information.

“My nephews are young, I grant you, but they were there. Big Walder wrote the letter, though his cousin signed as well. It was a bloody bit of business, by their account. Your castellan was slain. Ser Rodrik, was that his name?”

“Ser Rodrik Cassel,” said Catelyn, clearly caring about the old man more than the safety and wellbeing of the two boys. “What of our other people?”

Before Lothar could even open his mouth Black Walder jumped in, “The ironmen put many of them to the sword, I fear.” His insincerity obvious to Lothar, though hopefully not to their hosts.

The Stark boy slammed his fist down on the table in a childish rage. Didn’t this boy know how to comport himself as a king yet? He looked as if he was about to cry. Clearly these Starks raised weak men. Perhaps it was for the best the Walder and Walder would not be raised at Winterfell.

He must take after his mother because the woman looked as if she was about to faint. She whispered wretchedly, “Please, not _all_.”

“No,” Lothar stated. “The women and children hid, my nephews Walder and Walder among them. With Winterfell in ruins, the survivors were carried back to the Dreadfort by the son of Lord Bolton’s.” And the gods help those who had survived because if even half of the rumors were true about that bastard, they would be praying for death soon enough. At least Walder and Walder had the protection of their family.

“Bolton’s son?” Stark asked.

Black Walder once again spoke. “A bastard son, I believe.” He was looking towards Catelyn Stark to see her reaction at this bit of news.

“Not Ramsay Snow? Does Lord Roose have another bastard?” It seemed the King of the North had heard of Bolton’s bastard son. “This Ramsay was a monster and a murderer, and he died a coward. Or so I was told.”

“I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports.” Lothar tried to sooth the distraught Northerners. They did have other things to discuss this night and he wanted to get some sleep at some point tonight. “All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton’s who save the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.” That might have been a bit of a stretch. After all if they were in Ramsay Snow’s care, most of the women were probably already raped and half-dead.

“Theon,” Robb said suddenly. “What happened to Theon Greyjoy? Was he slain?”

Lothar shrugged and spread his hands. “That I cannot say, Your Grace. Walder and Walder made no mention of his fate. Perhaps Lord Bolton might know, if he has had word from this son of his.”

The Blackfish nodded his head decisively and said, “We will be certain to ask him.” The look in the man’s eyes clearly showing that if Lord Bolton did not give the answers he wanted, there would be hell to pay. Despite his age, the Blackfish was still and impressive and intimidating man. Gods help poor Roslin if they agree to this proposal. His timid sister would break under the pressure of such a husband.

Hoping to get to bed at some point that night, Lothar tries to steer the conversation back towards the reason for their visit. “You are all distraught, I see. I am sorry to have brought you such fresh grief. Perhaps we should adjourn until the morrow. Our business can wait until you have composed yourselves…” Even the Stark boy couldn’t be foolish enough to take that offer, to show that amount of weakness during the negotiations. Besides, his northern pride would not let him.

“No,” said the king, “I want the matter settled.”

“My lord father bids me to tell Your Grace that he will agree to this new marriage alliance between our houses and renew his fealty to the King in the North, upon the condition that the King’s Grace formally apologize for your violation of your sacred oath to marry one of his daughters, in his royal person, face to face.” Out of the corner of his eye Lothar could see the Blackfish looking back towards the king as if he half believed the Freys asked too much just for this. On the opposite end of the table Lady Catelyn tensed, her thoughts clear on her face. She did not feel her son should have to stoop so low as to have to apologize to his father.

However, the King was quick to respond, “Of course. He deserves as much, I was in the wrong.” As if that wasn’t obvious to everyone there. Their father didn’t care if the damn wolf pup fucked that Westerling wench. He could have fucked hundreds of wenchs and taken them on as mistresses for all their father would care, but marrying the whore was going to lose this idiot the war. “It was never my wish to cause a rift between us, Lothar. The Freys have fought valiantly for my cause. I would have them at my side once more.”

Black Walder clearly wanted to rub salt in the wound and stated, “In restitution for this betrayal he demands Harrenhal.” Lothar wondered at how the wolf boy would handle this. Harrenhal, after all, was within the Riverlands. Would he even acknowledge that as Lord of the Riverlands, Edmure should at least be consulted as a curtesy, before he promised the keep away. Both the new Lord Tully and the Blackfish looked over to the young king, obviously sharing Lothar’s thoughts.

Edmure tensed and laid his hands flat on the table. “I don’t think that’s…” The lord started, probably not wanting to give the Freys any chance at gaining another keep within the Riverlands.

However the king quickly interrupted, shooting the Riverland Lord a stern look. “We are fighting for the North! Harrenhal is not in the North.” Perhaps the boy actually would acknowledge Tully’s lordship over the keep. “It is his once the war is over. And we have no further strategic need for it.” Perhaps not. But it was not his problem, after all the Tullys chose to declare the wolf pup their king.

Black Walder continued to press, “And there’s something else.”

The look on the king’s face nearly made Lothar laugh. The Young Wolf nearly growled, frustration clear in his voice, “We will do whatever we can to give Lord Frey what he needs.”

Suppressing a snicker Black Walder drawls back, “Not what,” and pauses for half as second, looking over at Edmure Tully. “Who.” The Blackfish and the Stark king also look over at Lord Tully who was more interested in the contents of his cup than the conversation and oblivious to the attention of the rest of the room.

Finally Edmure sees the rest of the party looking at him. “What?” he questions cluelessly and looks around at everyone, replaying the recent conversation in his head. After a moment he laughs disbelievingly and puts down his cup. “Ah, no.”

Lothar presses on, “Our father wishes an alliance cemented by marriage with the Riverlands. He requires Lord Edmure to wed one of his daughters.” He pauses for a moment and then looking over at the Blackfish adds “and Ser Brynden Tully to marry another.”

The Starks and Tullys froze in shock. The suggestion of a marriage between Edmure and a Frey girl was somewhat expected, but not marriage to Brynden.

Edmure recovered first clearly wanting to know more about his bride-to-be. “How old is she.” It was clear the Tully lord really wanted to know about her looks, not her age.

Lothar responded, “Our father has two daughters in mind for the marriages, though has not yet decided if he could bare parting from his favorite. The younger of the two is Roslin, who is sixteen. The other, Wyllene, is eighteen.”

Edmure shifted in his set looking a bit ill. “Might not it be better if I first met-” He was clearly hoping to get his pick of Lord Walder’s daughters and was not at all pleased with having his bride pre-selected.

“You’ll meet when you’re wed,” Black Walder interrupted brusquely. “Unless Lord Tully feels a need to count her teeth first?” he said with sarcasm. The reference to Lord Tully famous unflattering comparison of Frey women to his horse all too clear.

Edmure did not rise to the bait however and grit out, “I will take your word so far as her teeth are concerned, but it would be pleasant if I might gaze upon her face before I espoused her.” The boy was fooling no one. He wanted a pretty wife and was desperately trying to get out of agreeing to anything until he could choose the prettiest Frey girl for himself.

“You must accept her now, my lord,” said Black Walder firmly. “Else my father’s offer is withdrawn.” Did the Tully lord really think he had any room for negotiation? They needed more men or they would lose the war, and his father was the only one close with men to spare.

Lothar sighed and tried to respond diplomatically, “My brother has a soldier’s bluntness, but what he says is true. It is my lord father’s wish that this marriage take place at once.”

“ _At once_?” Edmure sounded unhappy and Lothar found it likely that the Tully lord had been planning to follow his nephew’s example and break the betrothal after they had gained what they wanted from the Freys.

Black Walder must have sensed what Lothar had and decided to try and end the conversation. “We depart for the Twins in the morning. We need an answer before we leave, and a wedding a fortnight thereafter or this alliance is at an end.” If they wanted any chance at winning this war they couldn’t refuse.

The Blackfish finally spoke up, “Has Lord Walder forgotten that we are fighting a war?” Lothar had almost forgotten about the older Tully and was surprised the man had not yet voiced his objections. After all, the Blackfish was notorious for declining betrothals.

“No,” Lothar stated bluntly. “That is why he insists that the marriage take place now, ser. Men die in war, even men who are young and strong or men experienced in warfare. What would become of our alliance should Lord Edmure or yourself fall before either of you took a bride? And there is my father’s age to consider as well. He is past ninety and not like to see the end of this struggle. It would put his noble heart at peace if he could see some of his daughters wed before the gods take him, so he might die with the knowledge that they had a strong husbands to cherish and protect them.”

Lady Catelyn was clearly unhappy, and probably thinking some very unkind things about his father. It was obvious that she believed her brother and uncle were too good for such matches. “My brother has just lost his own father. My uncle has just lost his brother. They need time to mourn.”

“A wife can often help a man through his grief,” Lothar tried to embolden them.

“Besides,” Black Walder drawled. Lothar could feel the cruel smugness coming off of him and feared his next comment might just end this negotiation. “It is not unusual or unprecedented. After all the late Lord Stark married during a war after losing both his father and brother.” The Stark boy and his mother tensed and Lothar silently pleaded with Walder to move on from the topic. “And father’s recent experiences has made his weary of lengthy betrothals. I cannot imagine why.”

The King shot Black Walder a filthy look, feeling the intended slight. “I take your meaning, Rivers. Pray excuse us while we discuss your proposal.”

“As Your Grace commands.” Lothar responded, hoping for some time to rest before they were summoned back. He looked over at Black Walder before standing, his bastard brother helping him hobble from the room.


End file.
